


love is a ghost you can't control

by catteo



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: All the AU's, Alternate Universe, Cafe AU, F/M, because you're feeling 22, lumerbjack au, roadtrip au, this is a hot mess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-14 15:25:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4569570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catteo/pseuds/catteo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Ward brothers AU shenanigans continue. Kara and Skye are best friends from college. Kara's just broken up with her fiance and Skye knows a guy who runs a cafe in town. Thomas doesn't really know what he's letting himself in for. Of course, every man needs a tortured past and, well, what could be more tortured than a brother who lives in a cabin in the woods and grows flowers. Introducing Grant Ward, mountain man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thatbluebox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatbluebox/gifts).



> That's right Lizzie, it's time for Ward bros lumberjack AU based on the video for "The Words" by Christina Perri. 
> 
> HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
> 
> As with so many things I do, this got 100% out of control. So this is turning into multi-chapter extravaganza. Stay tuned because Grant's just oblivious in the woods at the moment...

“I don’t know, Kara. It’s, like, on the corner of Lincoln and some other street…” Skye’s voice, slightly tinny on the other end of the line, is drowned out by a clap of thunder. Kara’s almost certain that she doesn’t swear, but the peal of laughter in her ear suggests that she’s not playing this quite as cool as she thinks she is. “I told you to stay at my place tonight. I just want you to remember that. If you even _think_ about telling people that I threw you out into the worst storm of the year I’m going to make you seriously regret it.” Skye doesn’t sound like she’s joking.

 

 

“That’s assuming I don’t die before I get the chance.” Kara tries her best to sound as though she’s totally unaffected by the worsening rain. She _definitely_ doesn’t start counting seconds after yet another flash of lighting paints the sky neon white. The pause before Skye starts speaking again tells her that she’s probably still not that good of a liar. Kara’s umbrella stopped being useful about three blocks ago. At this point she’s fairly certain that it’s just funneling rain down her back and into her bag.

 

 

“Look, you’re nearly there.” Skye’s voice is reassuring, and it only takes Kara a second to realize why.

 

 

“Are you tracking me with one of your programs?” Kara’s aiming for irritated, but she’s fairly certain that the only thing Skye’s going to hear is relief. The last thing she needs is to get lost. There have to be _some_ benefits to having a tech genius for a best friend.

 

 

“Of course. You didn’t think I’d just let you embark upon a brand new life in the middle of nowhere without me, did you?” Skye actually sounds insulted. “You’re my best friend, Kara. You may only be eight miles down the road, but I’m making sure you get there in one piece.” Kara doesn’t really know if she’s in one piece at the moment. Sure, the night’s warm, but she looks as though she’s been swimming fully clothed, and she’s going to make the opposite of a good impression when she meets her new boss. Which is typical.

 

 

“That’s debatable.” Kara murmurs it under her breath, wondering if it’s too late to admit defeat and drive back to Skye’s. She’s half convinced herself that she’s on a fool’s errand when she sees the sign she’s been looking for.

 

 

Kara’s got no idea what kind of café hires people on word of mouth, but she can’t afford to be fussy and, frankly, ‘ _Ward & Sons_’ doesn’t exactly sound threatening. She just wants a job and, according to Skye’s parents, the Wards are the nicest men alive. Skye’s exaggerated eye-roll, with accompanying long-suffering sigh, was enough to tell Kara that at least one of them was another in a long line of Melinda’s matchmaking failures.

 

 

Kara wonders if Melinda’s ever going to stop trying to set Skye up with every eligible male within shooting distance.

 

 

Probably not.

 

 

“Found it.” Kara tries not to let the relief at the thought of getting out of the rain bleed into every word. “You can stop tracking me now.”

 

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Skye’s openly laughing. “But you’re going to need to get someone to let you in before I hang up.”

 

 

“You know, for someone whose parents are cops, you’re really shit at lying.” Kara’s grinning as she raps her knuckles on the glass of the front door. The sign hanging in the window informs her that they’re closed, but she can hear music playing softly between claps of thunder, and she waves as a figure emerges from a back room.

 

“Am I shit at lying? Or just really great at talking you into doing what I want? You can thank me later.” With that cryptic comment from Skye, the line goes dead. Kara’s busy shoving her phone back into her bag, trying to put down her umbrella without taking her own eye out, as the door opens.

 

 

“Are you Kara?” The voice sounds relieved. Kara finally wins the battle with her umbrella and looks up. She’s going to kill Skye.

 

 

“Am I what?” Kara’s almost certain that she knows what words are. And sentences. She’s usually really great at speaking in them. She went to college, and she has an actual degree that proves how good she is at talking. It’s a shame that she just can’t remember how to make sounds.

 

 

“Kara?”

 

 

“I’m that. I mean. Kara. Yes.” Shooting is too good for Skye. Kara’s going to force her to listen to Nickelback until her ears bleed. “That’s my name. Kara.” Obviously she’s only going to be able to kill Skye if she manages to make it through whatever this is.

 

 

‘Woman versus most attractive man alive’, apparently.

 

 

Kara’s not entirely sure how you’re supposed to react when confronted with a man who has apparently opened an issue of ‘Sensitive Lumberjacks Weekly’ and just gone with the flow.

 

 

There’s an offensive amount of plaid happening. Kara’s fairly certain that a red plaid shirt, blue plaid flannel overshirt and khaki vest shouldn’t look good. She’s going to try to do her best to pretend that it has absolutely nothing to do with the man that’s wearing them. Kara hates beards. _Hates them_. It’s the only thing she’s been certain of since she hit puberty. And yet here she is, wondering if bead burn would be better than stubble rash, and if plaid looks better on the floor than it does hanging off broad shoulders.

 

 

“Are you okay?” He’s got blue eyes. Periwinkle blue. Kara’s got no idea what periwinkles actually look like, but she’s fairly sure that this guy is straight out of a romance novel and it seems apt. Also, he looks genuinely concerned for her wellbeing.

 

 

“I’m going to kill Skye.” It’s out in the open before she has a chance to take it back. Kara starts praying that he’s not going to ask her why.

 

 

“Yeah, that’s a pretty common sentiment around here actually.” He grins at her, and Kara wonders if Skye’s hired this guy to fuck with her on purpose. His teeth are perfect. He has dimples. His hair is pointing in at least eight different directions and he’s everything that Kara and Skye used to laugh about when they were eighteen. Before they grew up and got degrees and jobs and fiancés. Well, Kara did. Skye’s always been unpredictable. “I thought we were going out on a date once and she left me standing outside a haunted house for an hour.” He has a half-smile on his face that Kara’s going to categorize as ‘adorable’.

 

 

“You waited an hour?” Kara’s not sure why this is the thing that she’s fixated on.

 

 

“The last guy waited thirty minutes and she put posters up all over town saying ‘no staying power’. I was basically terrified.”

 

 

“Sounds like Skye.” Kara doesn’t bother saying that it sounds like Melinda telling Skye what to do and Skye responding in typical Skye fashion. “What did she do to you?”

 

 

“Called in a favor.” He’s grinning at her again. Kara starts thinking about her ex. It’s the one thing guaranteed to keep her focused on hating every male of the species. “Apparently you’re the best I’ll ever have.”

 

 

“The best you’ll ever have?” Kara can’t help the fact that her eyebrows shoot upwards and her voice hits an octave higher than normal.

 

 

“Waitress. Shit. Sorry. The best _waitress_ I’ll ever have.” His cheeks are red, and his hand is at the small of her back, and she’s allowing herself to be ushered into this stupid café in some dead end town in the middle of nowhere. “Look, this is the worst interview in the world, but I’m honestly terrified of Melinda and you’re way too smart for this. So the job’s yours, and so is the apartment, but you’re under no obligation to take either. Just so long as you promise that my death will be quick and painless.”

 

 

“No guarantees.” Kara laughs in spite of herself.

 

 

“I’m doomed.” He reaches over the bar and snags a bottle of whiskey.

 

 

“Hi doomed, I’m Kara.” She has no idea what possesses her to say it. She blames Phil’s influence. She’s got no idea how Skye manages not to spend her whole life telling appalling dad jokes. There’s a moment of total silence in which she considers showing herself out.

 

“I’m Thomas.” He holds a hand out to her. His grip is firm and his handshake is everything she’d expect from a guy dressed like he is. Oddly perfect. “Thomas Ward.”

 

 

She’s so fucked.


	2. Chapter 2

Thomas isn’t entirely sure how to deal with this situation. He’d been almost certain that Skye was messing with him when she informed him that she’d found him a waitress that he’d ‘only ever dreamed of’. He’d fully expected to open the door one day to find a kitten sitting on the doorstep, or some other practical joke. The fact that Kara’s apparently not an elaborate hoax, and actually seems completely perfect, has him utterly nonplussed. He’s clearly going to have to intercept the postman before he has a chance to deliver the ‘not really a thank-you note’ that got penned in a fit of inspiration last night. He still can’t believe that Skye was actually telling the truth. ‘ _Evil harpy_ ’ seems a little strong in retrospect.

 

 

“I was going to offer you a guided tour of the café, but honestly?” Thomas reaches over and gently takes Kara’s bag off her shoulder, “You look as though alcohol and a hot shower is more like what you’re after?” He delivers it as a question, but he’s fairly certain that Kara’s already staying. The relieved sag of her shoulders tells him everything he needs to know about the type of day she’s had.

 

 

“You read my mind.” Kara grins at him, apparently oblivious to the fact that everything she owns is completely saturated -- drops of water rolling off the corner of her bag and hitting the floor with a steady beat. “Make mine a double.” She’s leaning up against the bar like she belongs here. He somehow manages to resist the urge to push the strand of hair plastered to her cheek back behind her ear.

 

 

Thomas can’t work out why Skye has apparently delivered him the woman of his dreams, given the fact that she’s already sent him an email entitled ‘if you touch my best friend I’ll fucking kill you.’ He knew Skye was trouble the moment that she walked into his life with a laptop and a grin that clearly said the daughter of the ex-Chief of Police could get away with murder. Literally. He’s realized now that he should probably have refused to allow Melinda to try and set them up. Apparently Skye’s never going to stop punishing him for daring to think she might be interested in a date. Hindsight’s a wonderful thing.

 

 

Thomas grabs a couple of glasses and takes the cap off the bottle tucked under his arm. He’s not really focusing on the task at hand, and two drops of amber liquid hit the rim of the glass before landing on the polished wood of the bar. He doesn’t even realize he’s staring at Kara, swiping her finger up the side of the glass, until he sees the tip of her tongue, delicately licking the whisky from her skin. He figures that he should really have known that Skye was going to screw him over one way or another.

 

 

“So, Skye said you’re just passing through?” As conversation openers go, it’s pretty lackluster, but it’s also all he can manage as Kara sucks the tip of her index finger into her mouth.

 

 

“It’s complicated.” Kara manages a one-shouldered shrug before picking up her glass and staring at the whisky as though it might reveal the secrets of the universe. Thomas isn’t really sure if he should commiserate or just top her glass up so that it’s something more resembling a tumbler full of liquid courage. God knows he’s needed those himself on more than one occasion. “Did she tell you about John?” It comes out of nowhere.

 

 

“This is Skye we’re talking about, right? I’m pretty certain that she’d keep secrets from herself if she could manage it.” Thomas doesn’t think he needs to tell Kara that hiring her is the only time Skye’s ever asked him for a favor. He also decides that the ‘I thought you’d be a kitten’ story is something that he can afford to take to the grave.

 

 

“Right.” Kara manages to pull one corner of her mouth up into something that Thomas can’t honestly call a smile, before knocking back the contents of her glass. Thomas comes from a long line of people who can handle their liquor, and even he’s impressed. “It’s a long story anyway.”

 

 

“You look like you’d be better off with a hot shower and a sleep than talking to me, honestly. We can do life stories another time.” Thomas stands and grabs Kara’s bag before she has a chance to protest. He picks up the half-full bottle almost as an afterthought. “Come on, let me show you your new home.”

 

 

“Home.” Kara’s tone is more of an echo than a question and Thomas simply starts walking towards the stairs. He can hear light footsteps following him as he takes the back steps two at a time.

 

 

He hardly ever comes up here. It’s a place that holds a lot of memories, and most of them he’d rather forget. Thomas is totally nonplussed by the fruit basket that’s standing in the center of the hallway as he pushes open the door at the top of the stairs. There’s a note attached saying ‘bet you thought she was a puppy’. He’s almost certain that he manages to stuff it into his pocket before Kara sees.

 

 

“It’s not much but, you know, there’s a fruit basket.” Thomas shrugs as he turns. Kara’s still standing by the door, and he’s seen enough people having an existential crisis to know what it looks like. He still remembers the day Grant stood in that exact spot and informed him that he was leaving. It’s as though there’s a ghost hovering over Kara’s shoulder, and Thomas suddenly feels as though he’s nineteen again -- the smell of damp earth on his fingers and tear-tracks tight on his cheeks -- with nothing but a desire to prove the world wrong. “You don’t have to do this.”

 

 

“Yeah. I do.” Kara’s pushing past him, somehow managing to take her bag from his hand as she goes. Thomas picks up the basket from the floor, tucking the bottle in his hand between a mango and a pear, checking that Skye hasn’t managed to execute any further sabotage, before following Kara. She deposits her bag on one of the chairs in the kitchen, and her back’s still towards him as she speaks. “It’s time for me to stand on my own two feet.”

 

 

He doesn’t really know what to say to that.

 

 

“We’re closed tomorrow, but I’ll be about.” Thomas tells himself that he feels nothing as Kara turns and gives him a shaky smile. He’s just relieved that he’s found a waitress. And that Skye’s going to have no reason to prank him any more. “If you want to talk.” He definitely meant to say something about her learning the ropes. He has no idea where this came from.

 

 

“Thank you.” Her smile holds this time. “Thomas.”

 

 

Thomas is half way down the stairs before he realizes that he’s probably going to owe Skye for the rest of his life. And there’s no way she’s ever going to let him forget it.


	3. Chapter 3

Thomas isn’t really sure at this point how he actually ever managed without Kara. It’s been a grand total of three weeks since she turned up in the middle of a rainstorm, and he’s beginning to realize that he’s starting to have a serious problem. He actually can’t imagine his life without her. It’s just slightly unfortunate that Kara comes with the inconvenience of Skye now treating the café like her front room.

 

 

He’s adapting though -- a necessary skill when you’ve got nobody to rely on but yourself -- and at least it seems as though Skye’s found herself a new project that isn’t about torturing him. He’d spare a thought for whatever poor soul she’s set her sights on now, but the café’s been so busy in the last couple of weeks that he barely has time to remember to eat. Skye’s the least of his worries.

 

 

“Eat.” Kara appears at his elbow with a sandwich, a mug of soup, and a look that says he’s taking a break, whether he wants to or not. He’s got no idea when, or how, she found out how he takes his coffee or what his favorite sandwich is, and yet here they are -- black, two sugars, and a grilled cheese with the crusts cut off. “You need a break. You’ve been flat out since opening.”

 

 

“And you haven’t, I suppose?” Thomas knows better than to try and insist that Kara take a break. He’d tried that on her first day only to have her turn around and inform him that she didn’t need him mollycoddling her just because she was Skye’s best friend. Thomas didn’t really know what to react to first; use of the word mollycoddle, which he’s pretty sure nobody has used in conversation since early last century, or that being Skye’s friend was a thing that would earn her special treatment. As though he wouldn’t ensure that all of his staff had breaks when they needed them.

 

 

“That’s where you’re wrong, actually. Skye bought me lunch. I sat and ate it at a table. Like a normal person.” Kara raises an eyebrow at him and gestures towards the nearest seat. Thomas knows when it’s not worth fighting the inevitable, but it’s not until he’s safely settled on the sofa that Kara grins and leaves.

 

 

“Hey friend.” The tone is deceptively innocent, but Thomas knows that what’s coming next is likely to be anything but. Skye flings herself down on the couch next to him with total disregard for the fact that he’s holding a steaming cup of coffee. Ten years of dodging small children whilst carrying trays of food has, however, prepared him for moments such as this. The cup is safely on the table in front of them before Skye’s even managed to settle herself into position. Thomas realizes with a growing sense of dread that his lunch is highly likely to be anything but a break.

 

 

“Hello Skye. How was lunch?” Thomas dips a corner of his grilled cheese into his soup, ignoring the disgusted face that Skye pulls. He’s determined not to let her get the upper hand in this conversation. She clearly has some sort of agenda in mind, and he’s vaguely conscious of Kara laughing three tables away, a very tangible reminder that he owes Skye.

 

 

“Delicious actually. Nice of you to pick up the tab.” Skye’s grin is really more of a smirk.

 

 

“Kara said you paid actually.” Thomas sees her eyes narrow and wonders if, perhaps, it might not have been wiser to keep his mouth shut.

 

 

“Well, she insisted. I was going to dine and dash, but she said that the owner needed to pay his staff.” Skye twists on the seat, one leg folded up underneath her, so she’s facing him. Thomas tries really hard not to turn his head to look at her, but it’s completely unnerving having her staring at his ear. “I left a generous tip.”

 

 

“How gracious of you.” Thomas makes a point of putting his sandwich down, picking up his coffee and taking a long, obnoxious slurp. He catches the tail end of Skye’s eye-roll as he finally turns to face her. “Is there something I can help you with?”

 

 

“Kara’s my best friend, you know?” Skye’s either a really brilliant actress, or genuinely concerned that Thomas may not have picked up on this very vital piece of information. He’s vaguely insulted.

 

 

“Yes, Skye, I know.” He’s not entirely sure why this is information that needs to be shared whilst he’s trying to eat, but Skye’s clearly here for a reason and he figures that he might just as well let her say whatever she’s decided needs to be said.

 

 

“She’s really smart.” Skye says it as though this, too, is something that may not have occurred to him.

 

 

“Yes, Skye, I know. Are you also about to tell me that she’s incredibly competent and completely awesome?” Thomas almost regrets saying it, but Skye barely even acknowledges his words. “I mean, she already knows the names of half the people in here, and most of the town is in love with her.” Thomas is definitely not though. He’s only known her for three weeks and he’s not insane. “I’m not an idiot, Skye, I know she’s only here because she needs a distraction.”

 

 

“So she _did_ tell you.” Skye’s smile is triumphant, and Thomas wonders if now would be a good time to pretend that the kitchen is on fire.

 

 

“Well yeah, Skye, she lives here and I own the place. We kind of hang out a lot and we can’t talk about you _all_ the time.” Thomas just wants to eat his lunch in peace, surrounded by the noise of satisfied customers and laughter echoing through the room.

 

 

“So you know that asshole John broke her heart?” Skye’s face looms large in his vision and her expression is actually vaguely terrifying. He’s incredibly glad he’s not John.

 

 

“Kara said that he just had different priorities.” Thomas regrets the words the second they leave his mouth.

 

 

“Are you taking _his_ side?” She’s actually terrifying. Thomas can feel an icy chill of fear skating up his spine.

 

 

“What the fuck, Skye? Of course I’m not taking his side. I’m just telling you what she told me.” Thomas knows that his voice is barely a murmur, but he’s very aware of the concerned look that Kara throws in their direction. He’s abruptly furious at the thought of someone hurting Kara. “Look, I’m not saying that I’d help you commit murder, but I totally know a place we could hide a body.”

 

 

“Okay then.” Skye pushes herself to her feet, and Thomas isn’t entirely sure if this is a test he’s passed or not. “Don’t let me down.” With that cryptic comment she heads back to her table via a slightly circuitous route, pausing to inspect one of the vases of flowers sitting on a corner table. Thomas has no idea why Melinda thought that setting the two of them up would be anything other than disastrous. He’s half convinced that Skye’s actually a tornado in human form, just waiting to reduce any unsuspecting man into tiny pieces. He actually feels slightly sorry for whatever poor idiot she sets her sights on. He’s never going to stand a chance.

 

 

“Well look at you still breathing and everything.” Kara’s smiling as she tops up his coffee. “You must have told Skye what she wanted to hear.” Thomas can’t stop grinning at her. It’s becoming a real problem.

 

 

“I think I just agreed to help her hide a body.” He takes the proffered sugar.

 

 

“Just don’t use the basement. That’s how she framed the last guy.” Kara’s suddenly all seriousness. He’s fairly sure his heart skips a beat before she starts laughing, the sound of it rippling across his skin.

 

 

He’s almost certain that it’s impossible to fall in love with someone in three weeks.


	4. Chapter 4

Skye knows that she’s doing a consistently terrible job of feigning disinterest, but it’s not as though Kara or Thomas is paying her the slightest bit of attention. Skye’s actually fascinated as to how they ever get any work done, given that they appear to be living in their own private universe. She’d pat herself on the back for a job well done, only it’s been three months and all Skye’s managed to get out of Kara is ‘he’s a really great boss’. At least she managed to establish in the first few weeks that Thomas would kill a man for Kara. It’s a test that surprisingly few people ever pass.

 

 

In essence, Skye has basically decided that she’s going to have to take things into her own hands. After all, Kara and Thomas are clearly perfect together. How hard could it be? Surely a little push is all they need… She’s just having a slight problem working out what it’s going to take to get these idiots to actually confront the fact that they’re obviously made for each other. She’s got various half-formed plans that she’s concocting scribbled in a notebook, and an extensive selection of post-its on her laptop. It’s just that most of the scenarios require at least one party to be in on the scheme. Or use of a hot air balloon. Which seems excessive.

 

 

“Do you actually have a job?” Kara’s voice interrupts Skye’s contemplation of whether your best friend will hate you forever if you leave her stranded on a mountain in the name of True Love. She’s _fairly_ certain that Kara can’t read minds, so there’s really no explanation for the poor excuse of a cappuccino that’s placed in front of her. She knows that the café closed forty minutes ago, but that’s no excuse to let standards slip.

 

 

“Did you actually make this coffee?” Skye eyes it doubtfully. There’s a small pool of chocolaty water floating on top of a suspiciously solid-looking white substance that Skye thinks is supposed to be milk.

 

 

“That’s not an answer.” Kara sounds surprisingly upset for something that is, to Skye’s mind, relatively insignificant. Admittedly Kara doesn’t know about the plan to abandon her to the elements so, potentially, she has a slightly different frame of reference to Skye at the moment.

 

 

“Well, this isn’t a cappuccino, so I guess we’re both disappointed.” Skye shifts her bag off the seat next to her and gestures that Kara should take a seat. “Want to talk about it?”

 

 

Kara’s sigh as she sits down is strong enough to turn the pages of the magazine propped open at Skye’s elbow. Skye turns the page back to the flowers that she’s trying to find the names for. It’s nothing more than an exercise to leave a long enough silence to get Kara talking about whatever’s bothering her.

 

 

“I’m not stupid, you know?” It comes out loudly enough Skye’s just grateful that Thomas is, for once, not hovering in the corner staring at Kara like she’s hung the moon. He really needs to stop being such a flake and just ask her out. Not that Skye has an opinion on the matter. Not that she actually likes the guy enough to consider that he might just be good enough for her friend. Her _best_ friend no less. She and Thomas are going to be having a talk soon. “No, Kara, you’re not stupid. You’re smart. Are you okay?” Kara says all of this in mocking tones that Skye assumes are meant to be an insult. Skye’s just not sure which of them Kara’s trying to make fun of. She’s also not sure that now would be a good moment to explain that she’s trying to force Kara and Thomas to talk about their feelings.

 

 

“Sorry, Kar. Did the coffee machine push you over the edge?” Skye picks up a spoon and pokes gingerly at the top of her coffee, as though she expects it to fight back.

 

 

“I have a fucking degree from _Yale_ , Skye. Why can’t I froth milk?” Kara hisses it at her, as though Skye has done this on purpose. Skye’s forced to admit that some of this probably _is_ her fault. “Thomas is going to think I’m an idiot. I gave someone the wrong change yesterday.” Kara sounds completely defeated and it takes every ounce of self-control that Skye possesses to hold back her laugh.

 

 

“I’m pretty sure that Thomas isn’t going to judge you on your ability to math, Kara.” Skye tries to deliver this in even tones, but Kara’s theatrical groan is almost more than she can deal with. Skye chokes back a giggle. “Did he say something?” Skye’s a supportive friend. She can totally do this.

 

 

“Yes. He said not to worry about it.” Kara almost wails it at her.

 

 

“What an ass.” Skye knows that she’s pushed it too far when Kara narrows her eyes and pushes herself up from the seat. She leans over and grabs Kara’s arm, pulling her back down. “I’m sorry, I’ll be serious.” Skye closes her laptop to prove it, knowing that Kara will understand the gesture. “What’s wrong? Truth.” She’s only a little alarmed when Kara folds her arms on the table and buries her head in a very Skye-like move.

 

 

“Hishe benar losenth mras.” Kara’s voice is muffled by her arms and what appears to be despair. Skye’s not entirely sure what’s going on but she’s convinced it’s not about frothing milk.

 

 

“Yeah, you’re going to need to repeat that using actual words I can understand this time.” Skye wonders if it’s too early to start drinking. This seems like a situation that requires alcohol. It’s only three in the afternoon though. Kara probably has a reputation to maintain. Maybe Skye can start drinking now and Kara can join in later.

 

 

“I’m pretty sure I might like Thomas.” Kara lifts her head off her arms long enough to make this announcement before groaning and dropping her head back down. Skye has no idea how she manages to keep her screams of delight internalized.

 

 

“He seems kind of okay.” Skye doesn’t tell Kara that the man himself is currently making a beeline for them, wearing an expression that suggests he’s definitely on the worried side of curious. “You know, given that he’s a Ward brother.” Skye smirks as Kara’s head whips up, curiosity written all over her face.

 

 

“What do you know?” Kara’s ability to go from self-pity to delighted gossip in under three seconds is one of her best qualities in Skye’s opinion.

 

 

“Absolutely nothing. But Thomas is coming over and I don’t want him to think I made you cry.” Skye beams as she opens her laptop again, studiously ignoring Kara’s death threat.

 

 

“Everything okay over here?” Thomas glares at Skye as he says it. She gives him the most vapid smile she can manage and nods innocently. She doesn’t miss the way that his expression changes as he looks at Kara. Skye wonders if either of them is aware that she’s sitting literally two feet away and can, you know, see the way that they’re staring at each other. This is getting completely ridiculous. Skye’s basically honor bound to do something at this point. She went to all the trouble of setting them up and she’s sure as hell not letting their total inability to get their shit together ruin this for her.

 

 

“Totally fine. Kara’s just helping me pick out flower arrangements for my mom’s birthday party.” Skye turns the magazine around so that Thomas can see the arrangements that she’s circled. Proof that she’s totally innocent of all wrongdoing.

 

 

“Yup. That’s exactly what we’re doing.” Kara’s ability to lie with a straight face is another reason why they’re best friends.

 

 

“None of these are right though. I need them to be perfect.” Skye’s beginning to wish that she hadn’t volunteered to be the one to pick out the flowers. At the time it seemed like the easiest job of the bunch. Clearly picking the champagne would have been a much better plan. She can’t believe that Phil got there first. “Where do you get the flowers for the café?”

 

 

Thomas looks at her blankly. Skye’s almost certain that she’s speaking English, so she tries again. “Hey, Thomas, where do you buy your flowers for the café? I’d like to speak to them about the orchids you’ve started getting in. For Melinda’s birthday.” She knows that she’s being obnoxious, speaking deliberately slowly, but Thomas is acting totally out of character and it’s vaguely alarming. Bitchy humor is how she deals with her feelings. It’s adorable. Maybe.

 

 

“Skye.” Kara says her name in tones that imply that she’s probably not being adorable in the slightest.

 

 

“Sorry, but he’s being really weird. Is it some big secret or something? Do we not talk about the orchid guy?”


	5. Chapter 5

It’s not that Thomas doesn’t talk about the orchid guy. It’s that he doesn’t talk about Grant. Hasn’t been talking about Grant. He’s fairly sure that half the town has forgotten that he and Grant are even related. The ones who remember that Grant exists.

 

 

He’s not really sure how to start this conversation, but he supposes that now is as good a time as any. Thomas has been skirting around the subject for weeks, trying to avoid the curiosity in Kara’s tone every time she talks about something she’s discovered up in the apartment. He’s been doing a reasonable job of avoiding the issue up to now, Kara clearly too nice to force the issue. He should have known that Skye would be the one to ask the questions he doesn’t really know how to answer.

 

 

“The orchid guy is my older brother, Grant.” Thomas doesn’t really know why it’s so hard to say. He supposes that it’s because he’s spent so long not talking about it that he doesn’t quite know where to begin.

 

 

“GD? From the marks on the wall in my kitchen?” Kara says it quietly, as though she somehow knows that this is more of an effort for him than it should be. He gives her a small nod of confirmation. “It wasn’t that hard to work out, Thomas Andrew. Seems like it was quite the competition.” Her smile is gently and Thomas is absurdly grateful that she’s somehow making this easier for him.

 

 

“I ended up taller.” It’s ridiculous. The pride of a fifteen-year-old kid. His chest aches just thinking about it.

 

 

“Yeah, but he ended up the _orchid guy_.” Skye is possibly the biggest pain in the ass he’s ever met, but she’s probably the only person in the world who has the ability to make him laugh at a moment like this. Kara smacks her on the shoulder. The only effect it has is to make Skye’s giggling even more uncontrollable. “I’m sorry, but it’s true.” Skye finally manages to fight back her laughter enough to keep talking. “Thomas is, like, this successful businessman and his brother is, what, communing with nature? I’m just saying.”

 

 

“Well don’t.” Kara says this with a tone of finality that has Skye shrugging an apology at him. Thomas barely notices because Kara’s giving him a gentle smile of encouragement. He honestly doesn’t understand how he’s managed to end up in this situation -- in love with his new waitress and talking about his estranged brother at three in the afternoon without any so much as a beer in front of him. This is a truly terrible idea.

 

 

“I’m sorry, my mind is just blown. I honestly have no idea how to deal with this information.” Skye looks completely delighted and Thomas realizes with a sinking feeling, that all of this is about to spiral horribly out of control. Skye has a total inability to back down from a challenge, and Thomas is certain that Grant is probably going to be the biggest challenge Skye’s ever met.

 

 

“He’s not really good with people.” Thomas leaves out the part where they barely spoke for two years. It was a long time ago and Thomas understands now what he didn’t back then. Everybody grieves differently.

 

 

“But great with flowers apparently…” Skye’s looking at him expectantly and he knows that there’s no way he’s going to be able to get out of this gracefully. It’s going to be a disaster. Grant’s going to be his usual monosyllabic self, probably offend both Kara and Skye horribly, and then Kara’s never going to talk to Thomas again. He takes a deep breath and commits to the inevitable.

 

 

“Weirdly great, actually. If you want to go and talk to him and see if you can convince him to sort out the flowers for Melinda’s party I’ll take you up there.” He’s not sure at this point if he’s being the best brother in the world or the absolute worst. Maybe a little of both.

 

 

“Cause, like, I require an escort?” Skye crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow at him. Kara’s actually rolling her eyes and miming an apology at him. He really likes Kara. A lot.

 

 

“Well, Skye, it’s in the middle of the woods off a dirt track. You’re welcome to find it on your own, but there are wolves and bears out there, you know?” Thomas can feel his own features mirroring the smirk that’s rapidly appearing on Skye’s face. “I’m sure you could probably glare them down, but how about you just let me warn Grant about you first, huh?” Thomas is beginning to think that he’s been hanging out with Skye a little too much.

 

 

“No need to be like that about it. You could have just said you were taking us on a road trip this afternoon.” Skye just seems to have this knack of taking everything he says and somehow twisting it to suit her own needs. It’s kind of amazing actually.

 

 

“We’re not going this afternoon, Skye.” It comes out more like a question.

 

 

“Kara, did you not tell Thomas about my love of road trips?” Skye’s practically vibrating with enthusiasm and Thomas is beginning to deeply regret everything.

 

 

“No, Skye, oddly enough, it hasn’t come up. I’m just going to let you two fight this out.” Thomas tries not to read anything into the fact that Kara’s final words to him before she heads upstairs are “I hope you know what you’ve started.”

 

 

“There are other places to get orchids, you know.” He feels as though it’s worth a last effort to prevent this meeting from taking place. He’s almost certain that Grant and Skye meeting is going to end in disaster. They’re almost polar opposites in their attitude and there’s no way it can go well.

 

 

“I don’t _want_ other places. I want the perfect orchids that you’ve got. And now you’ve told me you have a hidden brother who’s gone full Salinger, do you honestly think there’s any way out of this for you?” The amount of mock pity she’s managed to work into her tone is almost terrifying.

 

 

“Salinger?” Thomas feels as though maybe he’s not focusing on the important things here. Like the fact that he feels as though his life is about to rapidly spiral out of control. He’s beginning to feel like Skye’s sole purpose in life is to keep him permanently off-balance. Why is Kara taking so long?

 

 

“Yes, Thomas. Salinger. As in JD? Catcher in the Rye?” Skye looks unbearably smug. “He ran off to a cabin in the woods too.”

 

 

“How do you even know that?” Thomas is about eighty percent sure he can salvage this situation.

 

 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Skye crosses her arms, her tone verging on hostile.

 

 

Fifty percent sure.

 

 

“Can’t we just do this another time? Does it really have to be today? I mean, it’s getting kind of late.” It’s not as though he thinks any other time is going to be better, but at least maybe he can give Grant advance warning, get out of the cabin, and convincingly fake disappointment that they’ve missed him.

 

 

“Thomas Andrew Ward.” Skye’s suddenly deadly serious. It’s actually terrifying. “I need perfect flowers. You know where I can get them. If you don’t take me to see your brother I’m going to tell Kara you’re in love with her.” Skye settles back in her seat as if to indicate that it’s his move.

 

 

“Well maybe I’ll just tell her myself, and then you won’t have any leverage.” Thomas feels as though he’s in a parallel universe. Maybe Skye and Grant will have more in common than he expected. It’s a slightly worrying thought.

 

 

“Okay.” Skye grins brightly at him. “You’ve got about three seconds to decide because that’s her coming down the stairs now.”

 

 

“Kara, you should pack a bag.” Thomas knows when he’s beaten. He’ll deal with everything else later. The fact that he’s in love with Kara, and that he’s apparently been obvious enough about it that Skye actually knows, pales in comparison to his anxiety over Grant and Skye meeting. Kara’s never going to forgive him if Grant kills her best friend.

 

 

“Yeah, it’s packed.” Kara drops an overnight bag on the floor at his feet. Thomas gives her a look of profound disappointment, although he’s not really all that surprised either. “Skye and I have been friends a long time. You never stood a chance, sweetheart.”

 

 

Thomas can’t quite work out if the endearment is deliberate or not. They’re four miles down the road before he regains any ability to focus. But by then it’s far too late to turn back.


	6. Chapter 6

Skye’s deliberately obnoxious for the entire forty-three minutes of the drive out to the cabin. She knows that Thomas probably thinks she’s doing it to piss him off, but she’d be willing to bet that he hasn’t thought about his parents or his sister the whole way there. People just assume that she doesn’t notice things. It’s her superpower, distracting people until they feel better. She really doesn’t get enough credit. She’s practically a genius.

 

 

Of course, it helps her non-stop diatribe about Thomas’s terrible taste in music that he has nothing but alt-rock CDs in his car, and every radio station that’s tuned in is playing Nickelback. Skye’s absolutely not going to ruin her street cred by confessing that she loves _Someday_. By the time she’s finished screaming at Thomas about the relative merits of Linkin Park versus Greenday, twenty minutes have passed, and she notices that Kara has apparently become mute on the journey. Skye suspects that it may have something to do with the fact that Kara’s just realized she’s on a road trip to meet the family. Skye’s delighted. She’s already sent Melinda a text saying “time to start planning the wedding”. Melinda can interpret it any way she likes. Skye’s had zero cell service for the last few miles and she’s not even going to worry about the interrogation that’s in her future.

 

 

“So Grant lives in an _actual_ cabin in the _actual_ woods.” Skye can hardly believe this. There are trees pressing in on either side of the track and, even though the sun’s still fairly high in the sky, it’s almost like dusk as they drive. “Did he build it with his own two hands?” Skye snorts as she says it. She’s not even sure why she finds this entire thing so entertaining.

 

 

“Skye.” Kara turns in her seat and frowns. At least it’s an improvement on complete silence.

 

 

“Oh come on, Kara, you can’t tell me that you’re just taking this in your stride. Thomas has a brother who lives in a cabin in the woods and grows flowers. It’s honestly more than I ever dreamed of.” She’s laughing again. She’s a terrible person. The trees slowly start to thin out and Skye catches glimpses of bright sunshine sparkling off water. Thomas finally drives out into a wide open space, and Skye abruptly runs out of things to say. This place is stunning.

 

 

The trees form an almost perfectly semi-circular clearing, and sitting towards the back of this, nearly indistinguishable from the forest behind, is a wooden cabin. It looks like something straight out of a fairytale. It’s clearly a work in progress, stacks of lumbar neatly positioned to one side, with pegs and bright tape marking out a large square on the ground to one side of the building. Sunlight glints off a bay window that’s positioned to give the best view of the lake. She can’t believe that this place exists less than an hour out of town.

 

 

Thomas pulls up beside a slightly battered truck and kills the engine. It’s so quiet that, for a moment, Skye feels the urge to yell at the top of her lungs, just for the fun of it. Kara looks absolutely spellbound though, apparently barely even registering Thomas opening the door for her, and Skye doesn’t want to ruin the moment. She’s gone to considerable trouble to make this happen, and she’s not going to take any chances at this late stage in the game.

 

 

“What, chivalry died in the last thirty seconds, did it?” Skye’s flung her door open and is already halfway out of the car as she says it, giving Thomas a pointed look. Sadly it appears that she’s wasting her best material since Thomas is already slinging Kara’s bag over his shoulder, ushering her along the path leading up to the cabin. Skye doesn’t even bother hiding her grin of triumph. It’s not as if either of them are going to notice. She grabs her own bag from the back seat before slamming the door as hard as she can. The noise echoes satisfyingly in the quiet and, for a second, Skye thinks that she hears barking. By the time the ringing in her ears settles everything’s quiet, and the only thing she hears is Thomas concluding a sentence with ‘ _unbelievable’_. She sticks her tongue out in his general direction, gratified to hear Kara’s muffled laughter.

 

 

“You know, you fit right in here, you’ve even got the right facial hair.” Skye practically skips up beside them, then smirks at the disgusted look Thomas gives her. “What? You do. You left hipster-cool about three weeks ago and you’re pretty much just full-on mountain man now. Embrace it.”

 

 

“You do remember that we’re only here because I’m doing something nice for you, right?” Thomas has apparently become immune to Skye’s taunts about the beard. Skye’s almost upset about it.

 

 

“Skye’s just not used to people refusing to do exactly what she says. Your stubborn refusal to shave, despite her insistence that you should, is really beginning to get to her.” Kara’s not wrong. Skye doesn’t have to like it though.

 

 

“Traitor.” Skye’s just amused that Thomas and Kara appear not to even realize that she’s managed to dupe them into having a romantic getaway. She knows that it’s not exactly perfect. She has yet to work out how to remove herself, or the as yet unknown variable that is Thomas’s brother, from this scenario. But it’s progress.

 

 

Thomas takes the cabin steps two at a time, knocking a few times on the front door before he swings it open. Skye’s finds it interesting that he pauses for a response. She never bothers knocking when it’s family, and she’s struck by the thought that maybe there’s more going on here than she knows.

 

 

“Grant?” Thomas doesn’t wait this time, beckons the girls to follow him into the cool of the hallway. “His rifle’s gone. He must be out hunting.” Thomas announces this with what Skye can only really describe as a slight air of relief. Her interest is _definitely_ piqued now. It’s only Kara’s hand on her arm and warning headshake that stops her launching into a full-blown interrogation. She figures she’ll just save it for the ride home. She’s getting to the truth one way or another.

 

 

“You guys want coffee?” Thomas pushes open a door at the end of the hallway, revealing a pristine kitchen, drenched in sunlight. Skye’s fairly sure that she hasn’t seen work surfaces that clear since the day she moved into her apartment. It’s almost unnerving. People are supposed to have _stuff_. Things that tell their stories. “Don’t let Kara froth the milk.” It’s out of her mouth before she can take it back.

 

 

“Why are you like this?” Kara doesn’t even sound surprised.

 

 

“Terrible childhood actually.” Skye shrugs, utterly unrepentant.

 

 

“I can’t believe you just ‘terrible childhooded’ me to get out of a conversation involving me being mad at you for mocking me for not being able to use a coffee machine.” Kara shakes her head.

 

 

“We’ve been friends long enough for you to know that this is the least I’ll do to get out of a lecture.” With that, Skye opens the nearest door and saunters through it. She’s grateful that it turns out to be the living room and not the bathroom. She’d never have heard the end of that.

 

 

“You can make your own coffee.” Kara’s voice is cut off as the door swings shut. Skye has absolutely no intention of interrupting Thomas and Kara. She offers up a silent prayer that they find something more interesting to do than make coffee. She’s fast running out of ideas that fall anywhere in the realm of subtlety. Pretty soon she’s just going inform them that they need to start dating. Maybe that would get them talking. Or at least yelling at her together. Skye would take that as a promising start to a relationship. She’s done more with less.

 

 

Skye honestly can't help the fact that she’s naturally curious. People have accused her of being nosy, but Skye really contests that. Nosy implies that you’re trying to find out things that you’re not supposed to know. Curioisty is how you find out things that people don’t want to tell you. There’s definitely a difference. Either way, she starts sweeping the room with an ease borne of long practice. Growing up around cops makes you really good at detective work. She finds old photos, the corners yellowing with age, each of them meitculously labelled with a date and name. Skye recongises Thomas, grinning out at her from dozens of pictures, the journey from childhood to awkward adolescence providing her with more ammuntion than she really knows what to do with. A couple of pictures show three boys and a girl, but the eldest boy is conspicuosly absent from the majority.

 

 

Skye flips one of the pictures over and deduces that Christian must be the camera-shy one. “Grant, Rosie and Thomas, Christmas 1997” is scrawled on the back of another. The corners of this one are thinned, as though its been handled a lot. Skye carefully puts it back exactly as she found it. The other rule of detecive work -- leave no trace. Or maybe that’s the first rule of crime. She gets them muddled up sometimes.

 

 

Skye takes her time, making sure that she’s thorough. The Ward boys are a local mystery, and there’s nothing Skye hates more than not having all the answers. She works her way around the room, pausing every now and again to have a closer look at various items. There are books on plants, herbs and basic survival skills scattered around the room. She spots a dog bed in the corner, suprisingly clean given the fact that it looks well-worn. She spots a hunk of wood, a delicately carved horse rearing up from the centre -- obviously still a work in progress -- sitting on the table by the window. It’s so lifelike that Skye’s almost surprised at the sensation of wood rather than coarse hair under her fingers.

 

  
  
The sound of muffled laughter reaches her from the kitchen and Skye decides that now is as good a time as any to take a closer look at the lake. She doesn’t bother interrupting Thomas and Kara in person, just shouts her intentions to the building at large. She’s out of the door without waiting for a response. The heat is slowly draining out of the day, but it’s still humid, and the water looks so inviting. Skye ties her skirt above her knees and lets out a muffled yelp as she steps into water that’s only just the bearable side of icy. It’s a delicious contrast to the heat of the day though, and fairly soon she’s just kicking her feet through the crystal clear water.

 

 

Skye’s considering making her way back to the house when it she sees him. For a good eight seconds she’s sure that she’s hallucinating. Maybe it’s heat stroke. Either way, there’s not a chance that this is a thing that’s actually happening.

 

 

There’s a tall figure walking down the track from the forest, shirt tied around his waist and mud staining the light blue denim of his jeans. She’s not sure if it’s a trick of the light, but the ridges of muscle on his torso are outlined by shadows, and she can’t stop her eyes following a fine trail of hair as it disappears below the waistband of his jeans.

 

 

It’s not until he lets out an ear-splitting whistle that she manages to drag her eyes up to his face. All she can make out is dark hair and a beard, his face half turned away from her, as a dog, that she thinks is probably part wolf, comes pelting down the track towards him. As the man -- definitely a man -- gets slightly closer she realizes that he’s got a couple of rabbits slung over his shoulder, and a rifle, broken and held under the crook of his arm. This is obviously the elusive Grant Ward, striding towards her like something out of a movie.

 

 

Skye can’t stop staring.


	7. Chapter 7

Grant stops walking so abruptly that the dog cannons into the back of his legs. It’s only quick reflexes that stop him from falling flat on his face. There’s a figure standing in the lake, just openly staring at him. She’s wearing a dress that’s the exact color of the sky just before the storms come and break the oppressive heat of summer. The water around her reflects the clear blue overhead, rays of light glinting silver off the water surrounding her, and she looks like an angel.

 

 

Grant doesn't know who she is or what she's doing there, and only the fact that the dog makes a beeline for her, crashing through the water and soaking her with spray, confirms she's actually real. And then he hears her laugh. It’s a peal of pure joy that settles on his skin and drifts down into his bones. He’s just about mustered up enough courage to walk down and ask who she is and why she’s here, when he hears his brother. The sound of Thomas yelling his name breaks whatever spell he’s under, and he starts moving again, trying to ignore the girl now throwing stones across the lake, her body like poetry in motion.

 

 

“Who’s the girl?” They’re the first words out of his mouth as Thomas approaches. He belatedly realizes that he should probably say hello or ask how Thomas is, but his brain doesn’t seem to be functioning particularly well. It’s definitely the heat.

 

 

“Hi to you too, Grant. This is Kara.” Thomas gestures behind him at a girl that Grant hadn’t even seen. He’s got no idea what’s going on and he’s not sure that he likes it. The girl grins up at him, apparently delighted to meet him, and he decides that he should probably give her the benefit of the doubt, as Thomas continues talking. “Kara, this is my brother, Grant. You’ll note that I got all the charm whilst he got all the -- wait, Grant, what did you get that I’m not better at?”

 

 

“Thomas, be nice.” Kara smacks Thomas on the arm, and Grant decides that he likes her. “Sorry to just turn up like this. Thomas said that it would be okay.” This last is clearly meant for Thomas’s benfit, delivered with an arch look that clearly suggests that this particular conversation isn’t over.

 

 

“Hi.” Grant makes a half-hearted attempt to clean his hands on his shirt, belatedly realizing that he’s not exactly dressed for the occasion, but everything’s covered in mud and he’s only making things worse. Fortunately the dog is being enthusiastic enough for both of them, shoving his nose at Kara’s leg until she gives in, bending down to say hello.

 

 

“What’s his name?” Kara looks up, squinting against the sun that’s beginning to sink towards the horizon.

 

 

“Dog.” Grant shrugs. Thomas snorts with laughter at the confused look on Kara’s face. It’s not important. Grant has bigger issues that he needs to address. “There’s someone else here.” Grant’s words come out sounding more like a question than he intends, but he’s still not entirely certain that he didn’t just dream the girl at the lake.

 

 

“Someone else?” Thomas sounds totally confused, as though this is news to him. Grant’s unprepared for the sharp pang of disappointment that he feels at Thomas’s words.

 

 

“He means Skye.” Kara points to the track behind Grant, as the dog takes off past him, barking enthusiastically. Laughter rings out behind him, growing steadily closer, and he risks a look over his shoulder. It’s the girl from the lake, her skirt knotted above her knees and her feet grass stained. She’s currently engaged in a tug-of-war with the dog and it seems as though she might be winning. Grant’s fairly sure that the dog isn’t really putting in optimal effort. Apparently neither of them quite knows how to deal with her. Skye. Her name’s perfect.

 

 

She stops wrestling with Dog long enough to stand and grin at him. Grant’s never really believed that your heart can skip a beat until now. It’s completely disconcerting. He mumbles something that he hopes sounds like an apology and heads for the house. He feels completely incapable of facing Skye at all, let alone looking like this. He’s acutley aware of the fact that he’s wearing nothing but filty ripped jeans, and the pungent aroma of wild rabbit is suddenly the only thing he can focus on. He’s totally unprepared for this and he knows that Thomas has done it on purpose. Grant would have made himself scarce if he’d known what his brother was planning.

 

 

Grant pauses to sling the brace of rabbits and his hunting knife down next to the outdoor sink, before turning on the tap and making some sort of effort to remove the worst of the grime from his skin. He leans down to stick his head under the water, scrubbing his hand through his hair, and relishing the senstation of cool liquid hitting the back of his neck.

 

 

“You should just have joined me in the lake.”

 

 

“Fuck.” Grant jerks upwards, taken totally by surprise, smaking his head on the tap as he does. Skye’s got her hip propped against the table, eyeing the rabbits with interest. Dog is sitting quietly at her feet, his tail sweeping slowly across the ground as he stares up at her. Traitor. Grant tries not to think about the fact that he’s now not only stripped to the waist, but also soaking wet. Any hope he had of making a good first impression is futile.

 

 

“Well, that’s pretty forwards of you. Usually I like to have a conversation first.” Skye boosts herself up so that she’s sitting on the table, feet swinging in the empty air. Every time she kicks forwards he sees glimpses of green staining the soles of her feet. He tries to focus on that, but then she’s leaning towards him, and he loses all ability to concentrate. He’s just staring at her as she picks up his hunting knife, making a noise of approval as she tests the blade. “Nice equipment.” She’s grinning at him in a way that makes him wonder if she’s still talking about the knife.

 

 

“Thanks.” He has no idea how to deal with this and decides that the safest option is probably just to limit conversation to the bare minimum. His shirt’s balled up on the table, but Skye’s somehow managed to position herself so that she’s half sitting on it. He decides that he really doesn’t need it at the moment.

 

 

“Any time, Grant.” She knows his name. How does she know his name?

 

 

“Why are you here?” He blurts it out without thinking. Skye’s eyebrows shoot upwards and he belatedly realizes that it sounds as though he’s annoyed. “I mean, what do you want?” Not any better, Grant.

 

 

“Wow, okay.” Skye actually looks taken aback. “Thomas said you might sell me some orchids, but if it’s too much trouble…” She’s pushing herself off the table, and Grant has no idea how to stop her. The one time he actually wants Thomas to be here and he’s nowhere in sight. Apparently Grant’s just going to have to fix this one himself.

 

 

“It’s not.” Grant almost puts a hand out to stop her, but manages to catch himself before he brushes her arm. “Trouble I mean.” His mouth is dry and his heart is racing, and this is why he doesn’t let Thomas bring people up here unannounced. “Just give me a minute.”


	8. Chapter 8

Skye watches as Grant vanishes up the steps and through the door. She tries really hard not to focus on the shift of muscle under the tanned skin of his back. She only really succeeds in shifting her line of vision so that she’s staring at his ass before the door blocks him from view. In a disconcerting turn of events, she’s got absolutely no idea what to make of him. She probably shouldn’t have been staring at him when he was getting cleaned up. On reflection, that’s vaguely creepy. It’s not really her fault though. She wasn’t aware that there were people in real life who looked like this. The beard is a little out of control, clearly a Ward thing, but Skye’s rapidly coming to the conclusion that there’s a lot to be said for mountain living. Of course, it apparently means that you lose your sense of humor. Which is a real shame, since Grant is basically what she’d point at if asked to describe her perfect man. The fact that he apparently hates her on sight may be something of a problem.

 

One minute turns into five, then ten, and Skye’s beginning to think that Grant’s just walked in one door and straight out of another. Now that she’s had time to really dwell on it, part of her wouldn’t actually blame him for just going and hiding in the woods again after the way she let her mouth run away with her. It’s not as though she’s usually shy or retiring, but she also doesn’t normally allow her flirting to get that out of control before she’s even really said hello. Skye decides that she was right earlier: she definitely has a touch of heatstroke. That’s the only reasonable explanation here.

 

She’d go and hang out with Thomas and Kara, but she’s gone to a lot of trouble to get them out of town and, as she turns with the intention of going to look for them, she sees them sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on the dock. It’s enough to bring a smile to her face and stop her from following her natural instinct - to run and not look back. At least something’s going as planned today. Finally she concludes that she probably needs to just suck it up and apologise to Grant for being a bit of a brat. She’s still staring over her shoulder, allowing herself a moment of pride in a job well done, as she pulls open the door to the cabin.

 

A split second later she’s cocooned in warm flannel, a strong arm wrapped around her back, breathing in the sharp scents of lemon and cinnamon. The world tilts on its axis for a long moment, before coming to sudden stop. Grant’s other arm, the one that’s not currently wrapped around her, is braced on the door frame, stopping the two of them from crashing to the ground. She’s got a hand on his hip, fingers reflexively tightening as she feels herself slipping, and she tries really hard not to think about the fact that she can feel warm skin under her palm. Her own heartbeat is loud in her ears, and he’s the one that pulls away first.

 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to… Sorry.” Grant’s got his hands up in a half apology. She wishes that he’d just put them back where they were a moment ago. Tries to stifle the thought even as she feels her cheeks flush. The breeze coming through the door is cool against the skin of her palm. She balls her hand into a fist and tries to forget the way his skin burned against hers.

 

“Hey, my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Skye’s proud of how steady her voice sounds, and she takes a step backwards herself. It still doesn’t feel like there’s enough air in the space between them. He’s staring at her, probably wondering if she’s as flighty as she fears she seems. Skye decides that she needs to get this situation back under control before there’s no coming back. She settles for gesturing out of the door. “I was too busy checking out the lovebirds.” As topics go, it’s probably not the best one to take her mind off her proximity to Grant. Or the fact that he’s now staring hard towards the lake, doing a really great impression of a man desperate to avoid making eye contact with her. She tells herself it barely stings. They’re strangers. No reason he should feel like they have to have a conversation.

 

“Thomas and Kara are together?” Grant sounds genuinely pleased. Almost as though he wants to hear more about it. Maybe she’s not giving him enough credit. It’s not like he was expecting company, and she basically forced Thomas to bring her and Kara up here. She’s really going to have to sell her need for orchids now.

 

“Eh.” She shrugs as Grant looks at her in confusion. “They’re trying to fight it, but we all know it’s inevitable.” She gets a small smile. The genuine joy she sees on his face is definitely enough to account for the way that her heart seems to skip a beat.

 

“Thomas deserves to be happy.” Grant says it quietly. It’s a statement that doesn’t really seem to need a response. Skye wishes that she knew the full story, but somehow resists her natural urge to pry. He takes a step towards her, his arm brushing against hers as he steps back outside, and goosebumps erupt along her skin. He turns and gestures for her to follow. She allows herself to believe that maybe the lingering smile on his face is for her.

 

“So, about those flowers?” It seems like a safer topic than his family.

 

“Sure. They’re this way.” Grant indicates that she should follow him.


	9. Chapter 9

Grant’s sure of one thing and one thing only right now: he’s an idiot.  Clearly Skye wouldn’t have fallen over just from him walking into her. He really didn’t need to grab her like that and she probably knows it. There’s a bewildering swirl of thoughts in his head, exasperation with Thomas for springing this visit on him, a cautious joy that he’s here, and hope that maybe he can be a better brother to Thomas this time.  Underneath all of it, undeniable and impossible to ignore, is an awareness of Skye’s presence at his side. The unfamiliar pull of desire lies heavy in his chest. He’d almost forgotten how it felt, nervous energy buzzing along his limbs, and white noise buzzing in his skull.

 

Skye’s walking close enough to him that he’s now aware her hair smells like lavender and that she’s exactly the right height to tuck her head under his chin. He really wishes that he didn’t know either of these things. She’ll be gone as soon as she’s seen the flowers and told him what she needs, and there’s nothing he can do about it. He’s setting himself up for nothing but disappointment and he knows it. He’s Grant Ward and he’s an idiot.

 

He’s not entirely sure which of them drifts towards the other, but Grant’s so acutely aware of her presence at his side that he assumes it’s her mistake. No way he’s invading her personal space with how unsettled she makes him feel. In the end it doesn’t matter, since Skye’s hand brushes against his anyway, setting off a chain reaction that sends heat racing across his skin. Grant tries desperately not to read anything into her mumbled apology. He somehow manages a half-smile and shrug, when the reality is that he’s almost desperate to feel the pressure of her hand in his.

 

Grant wonders when it was that he suddenly began to crave human contact. He’s been here, essentially on his own other than the occasional visitor, and been happy for years. He can’t quite work out what it is about Skye that’s got him so off kilter. He’s grateful for the cool sensation of Dog’s nose pressed up against his fingers. It’s almost enough to make him forget how Skye’s skin feels under his hands. Part of him regrets ever having touched her. The rest of him wants nothing more than to do it again.

 

The palm of Skye’s hand slamming against his chest isn’t exactly the stuff that his dreams are made of, and he comes to an abrupt halt. He doesn’t know if it’s the shock of her touching him, or the force with which her hand hits, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Stopping him in his tracks is apparently her only intention. He’s just grateful that she doesn’t seem to be suffering from the same meltdown that he’s experiencing.

 

“Tell me there’s another path.” Skye sounds almost desperate. He follows the line of her gaze and sees Thomas and Kara silhouetted on the dock. He’s not exactly in the loop with what’s going on here, but it’s clear that Skye has no desire to interrupt whatever’s happening between his brother and Kara.

 

“There’s another path.” Grant hopes to God that his voice doesn’t sound as odd to her as it does in his own ears. Skye’s still got her hand on his chest.

 

“Good man.” Skye’s suddenly swinging around to face him, a guilty expression on her face. “It’s taken me months to get them to this point. I’ll honestly die if they don’t get their shit together and admit that they’re perfect for each other.” Grant can barely focus on anything Skye’s saying since she’s absentmindedly straightening his collar. Her fingers barely graze the skin of his neck, but it’s enough to make his breath catch.

 

_Good man_. The words echo in his head. He’s not a good man in the slightest, and it’s probably fortunate that Skye’s not privy to the way she’s making him feel. She’s still staring up at him, the faintest crease between her brows, as though she’s trying to solve some sort of puzzle. He offers her what he hopes is a reassuring smile, and he’s somewhat bemused when her face lights up in response. She’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

 

“Well, lead on then Grant. We’re burning daylight here.” Skye moves aside to let him pass, a gust of wind blowing a strand of hair across her forehead as she turns. Somehow he resists the urge to tuck it back behind her ear and instead takes a steadying breath before turning towards the woods. He heads towards a narrow track that’s mostly hidden by a pile of lumbar, and tries to ignore the disconcerting feeling that Skye’s pulling faces at him behind his back.

 

Grant ducks his head to avoid a stray branch, one hand pushing it up and out of the way of Skye’s path. The smell of the pines is comforting, the familiar scent grounding him slightly. Fallen leaves crackle underfoot as he starts down the path, Dog brushing past his legs and heading into the undergrowth, nose pressed to the ground. It takes him a second to realize that he can’t hear Skye’s footsteps behind him.

 

He turns to find Skye staring back towards the clearing they’ve just left. The sun’s getting low, the sky lit with orange and rose, and the wood of the cabin almost seems to glow as dusk approaches. It’s always been his favourite time of day out here, the woods coming to life as the heat of the day begins to ease.

 

“It’s beautiful.” Skye says the words so quietly that he almost doesn’t catch them. She turns to face him, the silence stretching between them until the burning in his chest reminds Grant that he needs to breathe. Skye takes a hesitant step closer, the ghost of a smile on her lips. As she moves a brittle twig cracks under her foot, the sound of it loud in the silence. Dog barks quietly in the distance, and the moment passes.

 

“It’s my favourite time of day.” Grant’s not sure what’s gotten into him. There’s just something about the way Skye’s looking at him that makes him want to fill the silence.  Her smile is brilliant, and it’s all he can do to turn and walk away from her. This time though he can hear the steady beat of her feet following along behind him. It’s oddly comforting.

 

“Did you carve the horse in the front room?” The question comes out of nowhere, Skye taking him by surprise yet again. He nods as he opens the gate leading to the hothouse. “And you’re the one building the extra room to the cabin.” This one doesn’t sound like a question so he doesn’t treat it as one.

 

“I like to keep my hands busy.” He shrugs as he opens the door of the hothouse. The air inside, rich with the scent of earth and new beginnings, rushes out to meet them as he steps to one side to let Skye pass. She takes three steps into the building before stopping dead.

 

Grant swallows hard, before placing one hand on the small of her back and gently pushing her forwards. His thumb brushes against bare skin, but Skye doesn’t even seem to notice. He has a dizzying moment where he realizes that he’s standing virtually beside Skye, his arm almost slung around her waist, looking out at what’s become almost his life’s work. It feels like Skye belongs here at his side, but he knows it’s nothing more than a fantasy. For the first time in years, Grant wonders if he should have made different choices. He drops his hand and tries to ignore the ache of regret in his gut as Skye steps away from him.


	10. Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, remember how Thomas and Kara took a stroll down to the lake before Skye and Grant started being total idiots about life? I hope that you didn't think I'd forgotten about them...

“So do you think they’ll actually kill each other and we can finally get some peace?” Kara sounds as though she’s not entirely joking. Thomas gives her a non-committal shrug. It’s not as though he didn’t give each and every one of them fair warning. He ignores the little voice telling him that Grant didn’t get any warning at all. Grant could do with getting the Skye treatment for a bit. Thomas isn’t yet at the point where he really wants to admit to himself that if it wasn’t for Skye then he probably wouldn’t have had the best three months of his life. He’s _definitely_ never admitting it to Skye.

 

“We probably shouldn’t count on getting that lucky.” Thomas gives an exaggerated sigh, trying to ignore the way that his stomach flips at Kara’s peal of laughter.

 

“I mean, I’d probably miss Skye if she was gone.” Kara pulls a face at him as he lets out a sound of disbelief. “Don’t be an ass Thomas, you know you’d miss her too.”

 

“Okay, fine. Maybe I’d miss her.” Thomas squints up towards the cabin. Even from this distance it’s pretty clear that Skye’s got Grant on the back foot already. He almost feels sorry for his older brother. Almost. “What do you think they’re talking about?” Thomas flinches in sympathy as he sees Grant smack his head on the tap.

 

“The fine line between hipster beard and full lumberjack?” Kara reaches up and runs her fingers along the angle of his jaw as she says it. Thomas is suddenly having a hard time remembering what they’re talking about. “Come on, let’s leave them to it. It’s not like they need an audience for a discussion about flowers.” Her hand’s on his shoulder now, Kara smiling gently up at him. He clearly manages to communicate that he’s amenable to the idea since the next thing he knows he’s walking towards the dock, Kara’s hand wrapped firmly around his upper arm, the slight weight of her body pressed against his side. If it weren’t for the sound of familiar voices and a door slamming distantly behind them, Thomas would think that this was a dream.

 

“We used to come here when we were kids.” Thomas wasn’t really intending for this to turn into a walk down memory lane, but here he is. The wood of the dock is warm under his bare feet. If he closes his eyes he can almost hear the sound of childish laughter, echoing off the hills. The sound of his ghosts welcoming him home.

 

“You did?” Kara’s voice comes to him from a million miles away.

 

“Yeah,” Thomas takes a deep breath, forces himself back to the present. “I sometimes wonder if Grant came here as some kind of penance.” The heat of the day seems overwhelming all of a sudden. Thomas acts almost without thinking, taking Kara’s hand and leading her towards the end of the dock. He sits, pulling her down next to him, studiously avoiding looking at her, before rolling up the cuffs of his jeans and sliding his feet into the water of the lake. There’s still a chill in the water, and he hears Kara’s hissed exhale as she copies his actions. “We always had bets about who’d be the first of us brave enough to jump into the lake when we got here. We’d argue the whole drive here.” Thomas fights back the lump in his throat.

 

“I just bet you did.” Kara bumps her shoulder against his as she says it. Somehow it gives him the strength he needs to keep going.

 

“Every summer Grant was the first one in; half-way across the lake before the rest of us had even stopped screaming about how cold it was. I don’t even know now why we bothered to fight about it.” Thomas pauses for a moment, not sure if this is really the time to lay all his secrets out for Kara to sift through. The gentle pressure of her hand covering his is enough to decide him. “He was always the brave one. Always the hero. It took me a long time to understand that he ran after the accident because he needed to prove he could save someone.”

 

“You thought he left because of you.” It’s not a question, and Thomas is absurdly grateful that she doesn’t need more of an explanation. He’s not sure he could put it into words anyway. He’s never told any of this to another living soul. “He came back, Thomas.” Kara’s voice is quiet, and he finally risks a look at her. There’s the tiniest of smiles hitching one corner of her mouth, nothing but understanding on her face.

 

“Look at this place, Kara. He’s still running.” Thomas gestures back at the cabin. At this place he couldn’t face for years. He still can’t work out how Grant wakes up every morning and gets through the day here without breaking under the weight of his memories.

 

“We’re all running from something Thomas. I started when I found out what I was worth to the guy who claimed to want to spend the rest of his life with me.” Kara turns to face him as she says it, pulling her feet up out of the lake. Thomas stares at a single drop of water, slowly making its way down the tanned length of her calf. It’s only the fact that Kara turns her hand, twining her fingers with his, that keeps him from reaching out and tracing the trail of water with a fingertip.

 

“My offer to help Skye to kill John still stands by the way.” Thomas means it probably more than he should. Kara’s laugh is worth it though, and it pulls him fully back to the present. He risks a look up at her. The glow of the sinking sun seems to light her up from the inside, and the look on her face steals his breath.

 

“Eventually everyone finds something that makes them want to stop, Thomas.” Kara reaches up with her free hand, her fingers sliding under his jaw and around until he can feel the slightest scratch of her nails at the nape of his neck. Thomas doesn’t give himself time to think about it. He’s terrified that he’ll say something to break this spell and never get a second chance. He leans forward, barely noticing that Kara’s already pulling his head down towards hers, and breathes her own name into the air between them.

 

Her lips are soft and the low hum of satisfaction she makes as he twists his hand through her hair, tilting her head back, makes his heart skip a beat. Kara’s tongue slides against his, her mouth hot, the faintest hint of coffee on her breath. She sucks on his lower lip, dragging her fingernails along his neck. Thomas knows that he groans as she bites down, he can feel Kara’s answering chuckle against his skin, but he’s so far beyond caring at this point that he does it again, just to feel the curve of her smile.

 

“Thank you.” The words are out of his mouth before he fully realises that it sounds utterly bizarre to be thanking Kara at this moment. The slight look of disbelief on her face as she pulls away to look up at him doesn’t really help matters.

 

“For kissing you?” Kara doesn’t even bother to disguise her tone of incredulity. She hasn’t let go of him though. That has to count for something. Thomas lifts their entwined hands, pressing a light kiss to her knuckles, before letting go. He slides his fingers along her neck, cupping her face with his hands.  

 

“For being here.” Thomas is aware that he sounds like something of a love-struck fool. Which is, in essence, exactly what he is. He supposes that it must say something that he doesn’t even care who knows it at this point. He just really needs Kara to understand, but he can’t quite work out how to tell her what it means to him that she’s here.

 

“Thomas,” Kara wraps her hands around his wrists, her skin cool against his. He can feel her pulse racing under his fingers as she takes a deep breath. “You’re the reason I stopped running.”

 

“Kara…” He doesn’t really know what else to say, so he simply ducks his head again, and claims her mouth with his own.


	11. Eleven

Skye’s beginning to think that Grant doesn’t really like her. Sure, he prevented her from crashing to the ground in an embarrassing heap, but he’s clearly not in a hurry to engage in conversation. She wonders if he’s pissed about the fact that she’s obviously been prying. She didn’t mean to let on that she’d been poking around in his things, but she hasn’t been able to get that carved horse out of her thoughts. It’s the only thing in his house that isn’t completely functional - there for the beauty of it alone. Grant’s a total puzzle to her and it’s driving her slightly crazy. Who actually lives like this?

 

It’s not helping that, every time they get close enough, her universe shrinks until it’s just the two of them standing at the eye of a storm. Skye’s trying to tell herself that she’s just not watching where she’s going, that the brush of her hand against his is simply an accident. She knows it’s a lie. The reality is that she wants to find out if the way her heart races when she touches Grant is ever going to stop. She can still feel the rough scratch of his beard against her fingers, the memory of the heat of his skin making her itch to touch him again. It does nothing for her composure that she now knows the soft flannel of his shirt is nothing compared to the smooth, tanned skin of his neck.

 

The short walk here from the cabin has been a study in slow torture for Skye. She’s honestly beginning to wish that she’d never talked Thomas into bringing them out here. Every time she tries to pull her eyes away from Grant’s shoulders, filling out his shirt in a way that she really appreciates, she ends up staring at his ass. Her efforts to avoid watching the way the denim shifts with his every movement inevitably leads to her thinking about the way his chest felt under her hand, hard ridges of muscle obvious even through a layer of plaid. It doesn’t help that she’s never been able to resist a good puzzle, and Grant’s just one vast enigma.

 

Skye’s well aware of the fact that she could just quiz Thomas for the details about Grant. The only problem there is that Skye’s rapidly concluding that it’s not just the mystery surrounding Grant that’s piqued her interest. She wants him to look at her again the way he did in the clearing by the house. Before she fucked it all up by admitting to prying into his life.

 

The air in the hothouse is stifling, but Skye barely notices. All of her attention now focused on the gentle pressure at the small of her back. It’s all she can do to put one foot in front of the other, Grant’s proximity to her utterly disconcerting. She fights the urge to reach out and twine her fingers through his. She met this man all of an hour ago and they’ve exchanged about a dozen sentences, half of which barely count as conversation. Skye doesn’t know what’s gotten into her.

 

As suddenly as it appeared, the weight of his hand vanishes and Skye takes a step forward, away from the danger of Grant’s solid presence at her side. With a safe distance between them, Skye can actually focus on what’s right in front of her. The hothouse contains a riot of color everywhere she looks. The orchids are everything Thomas said they would be and more. Skye can't quite believe her eyes, her delight making her forget that she should really keep a safe distance. She turns and grabs one of Grant's hands.

 

“Why aren’t these green?” She turns his hands over, examining them this way and that, pretending that she's looking for the magic that he's managing to create. His palms are callused, a single fine scar arching across the base of one thumb. She looks up at him in mock surprise. “Hmmm, I don’t see any evidence that you really grew all of these.” She doesn’t mean to tease him. After all, it hasn’t really worked out that well for her up to this point. She’s almost shocked to see a grin on his face, as he rolls his eyes at her. She thought his eyes were brown, but as the light catches them she realizes that they’re amber, shot through with gold. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen anything quite like them.

 

Skye drops one of his hands, but keeps a firm grip on the other, and pulls him along the rows of plants. She knows that she’s being obnoxious, demanding to know more and more about each variety, but this is for Melinda. For all that her mom drives her crazy, Skye loves the woman who took her in when her life consisted of nothing more than a string of mistakes. Everything needs to be perfect.

 

Surprisingly, Grant doesn't pull away, but instead just lets her drag him along. Her hand is small in his, and it takes her a moment to notice that his grip is firm, that it’s not just her holding onto him. She's not sure if it's triumph, or something a little less innocent, that makes her stomach turn as though she's in free fall. Skye's not going to overthink it. She just allows herself a moment to pretend that this is somewhere she could belong. Reluctantly, Skye finally lets go when they reach the end of the row, and tries not to miss the warmth of his skin on hers. Grant seems totally unaware of her approaching meltdown, and scratches absentmindedly at the dog’s ears as he listens to Skye talk.

 

“Honestly I should have said I’d do the catering and just told Thomas and Kara that they were doing it. I’ve got no clue what got into me, honestly. Those damned orchids just judge me every time I walk into the café. It’s like they know I’ve killed all their relatives with neglect…” Skye’s babbling, and she's utterly unprepared for the sound of Grant’s laughter, rich and deep, burrowing under her skin and settling in her bones. A smile transforms his face, making him look somehow younger, as though his ghosts have been temporarily banished. Skye finally allows herself a glimmer of hope that perhaps she hasn’t irretrievably screwed up with Grant after all.

 

She has, however, somehow managed to completely lose track of the time, and it’s not until Thomas and Kara appear at the door of the glasshouse, announcing that they’re starving, that she realizes that the sun’s definitely setting, the sky lit with pink and gold.

 

“Listen, the man caught you rabbits with his own hands, you guys make dinner, we’re busy here.” Skye stares pointedly at Kara, praying that she's going to get the message. “I’m learning about _plants_.”

 

“Careful, Grant, or you’ll be stuck with her. Once she gets an idea in her head it’s game over.” Thomas smirks as Skye sticks her tongue out at him. She should have known that one Ward brother would be as oblivious as the next.

 

“What do you know about my ideas, huh?” She arches an eyebrow at Thomas, crossing her arms and tilting her head to one side.

 

“I know you’ve practically moved into my café and that you’ve got some sort of devious plan in mind, of which I’m apparently an integral part. I’m half tempted to leave you here for Grant to deal with.”  Thomas folds his arms and leans one shoulder on the doorframe. Skye doesn’t miss the fact that Kara’s got a finger hooked in one of his belt loops. She’d be screaming in triumph if it weren’t for the fact that Grant’s now gone completely motionless beside her.

 

“It’s okay. He’s joking.” Skye hopes that she sounds reassuring rather than slightly disappointed. The knowledge that Grant doesn’t really want her there is more of a blow to her ego than she anticipated. She plasters what she hopes is a convincing smile to her face.

 

“Oh.” Grant doesn’t look at her, but she sees his shoulders fall, as though in relief. Thomas and Kara seem to be too busy staring at each other to witness her humiliation. She pushes past them and heads back towards the cabin without waiting to see if anyone’s going to follow. She doesn’t remember the last time anyone had her this disconcerted. She’s not sure that it’s a feeling she likes.


	12. Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because apparently I'll never get any peace... sorry about the rust. For the bae cause she's sick. Blame her. Also blame Ali. Always blame Ali. And Sam.

Skye can’t seem to get away from him fast enough, turning on her heel and practically marching back down the track that leads to the cabin. Grant’s not sure if he should chase after her and try to explain that he wouldn’t actually mind if she wanted to stick around. It’s probably best if he just reconciles himself to the fact that, somehow, he’s screwed this up before it’s even had a chance to begin. Whatever _this_ is. If there even is a _this_. Grant decides that now is not the time to overthink things. His brain helpfully conjures up a vivid image of Skye’s smile, and the way it felt as her hand slipped into in his. He does his best to shake the sensation.

 

“One of us should probably go after her before she does something we’ll regret.” Thomas interrupts Grant’s quiet contemplation of his solitary life being turned upside down. Grant glances over at Thomas, but his brother shows no signs that he’s planning to move from his spot by the door. Grant suspects it has something to do with the fact that Kara’s planted herself firmly up against his brother’s side, giving off a somewhat proprietary air. He briefly wishes that Skye were here to see her plans coming to fruition, before reminding himself that he barely knows any of these people. Even his brother has become a virtual stranger to him over the years. He has no right to share any of their hard won happiness.

 

“Don’t you mean something _she_ regrets?” Grant’s retort comes out more scathing than he’d intended. He knows that it’s his fault. That he’s the one who chose this life. The one who ran.

 

“Trust me, brother, if you knew Skye like I do, you’d be far more concerned about the damage she’s likely to do to all of us than to herself.” Thomas chuckles softly. There’s no judgement in his voice, although Grant’s sure that there should be.

 

Grant glances at Kara, studying him with a contemplative air, but she says nothing, only shrugs and nods her agreement. It’s with a mounting sense of dread that Grant murmurs a quiet “C’mon boy” to Dog, and follows Skye out into the dusk.  

 

Given the speed she took off with, Grant’s surprised to find that Skye hasn’t actually made it very far. He pinpoints her location in moments, Skye sounding remarkably like a baby elephant, crashing about in the woods. He’s not sure if she’s attempting to take her anger out on the trees, or if she’s truly this much of a city girl. He’s really confused about why he even cares to find out. She’s here to buy orchids from him, not embark upon some sort of exchange of life stories. Best to keep things simple – sell Skye the plants, say goodbye, and let her walk out of his life. He’s been up here a long time, but he knows when someone’s out of his league, and Skye’s a vivid reminder of everything he’s not; self-assured, clearly wealthy, and apparently not afraid of confronting her fears head on.

 

“That’s a mighty big stick.” Grant wonders when his brain’s going to engage prior to his mouth opening. Apparently no time soon.

 

“That’s what she said.” Skye spins around and nearly takes his eye out with the piece of wood she’s evidently decided to use as some sort of weapon. Dog starts barking excitedly, clearly delighted at the prospect of a new and improved game of ‘Fetch’.

 

“Settle.” Grant’s talking to Dog but, regardless of his intent, the wild look in Skye’s eyes abates somewhat, and she lowers the branch a little. Grant’s kind of impressed at the ease with which she’s wielding it if he’s honest. She’s stronger than she looks. “I come in peace.” Grant tries his best not to smile as Skye pulls a disgusted expression, but he knows he’s fighting a losing battle.

 

“I’m glad that the thought of my death at the hands of wild animals is amusing to you.” Skye’s tone isn’t as arch as he’s expecting, a definite shake in her voice, and Grant belatedly realises that she’s actually afraid.

 

“It’s more the fact that you’d think anyone would be brave enough to take you on that I find hilarious.” Grant’s not sure if now is the time to poke fun at her, but it’s out there now, and there’s nothing he can do about it. It’s not as though things between them could really get much worse. For a moment, there in the greenhouse, he allowed himself to believe that there could be something between them, but daydreams do nobody any favors. “You’re kind of feisty.”

 

Skye tilts her head slightly, biting her lower lip in a way that Grant finds alarmingly adorable. “Feisty, huh?”

 

“If the shoe fits…” he tails off, not really sure if this exchange is beginning to spiral out of control. It feels good though, the back and forth banter. He’s so busy congratulating himself on finally managing to have a conversation with Skye that he’s totally unprepared for the way his heart skips a beat as she starts to giggle. “You should probably put that down before you take someone’s eye out.” He’s not entirely joking, but he has to admit that the sincerity of his statement is probably marred by the fact that he’s trying desperately hard not to start laughing himself.

 

“I mean, you do have pretty great eyes, I guess it would be a shame to damage them…” Skye drops the branch, at the same time turning and resuming her walk to the cabin. Grant wonders if now would be a good time to ask for some clarification about just what the hell is happening here.

 

“Was that a compliment?” He’s not sure if she’s flirting with him or not. It seems like the sort of thing that Skye would say to get a rise out of him, but he’s determined not to screw up now that he’s gotten this far. His question is met with silence. “Skye?” He tries again, following her down the track, trying his best to keep a respectful distance between them. The five feet he maintains between them has nothing to do with the fact that he’s trying desperately not to touch her skin again, just to see if the flare of heat that sparked under his fingers before was nothing more than imagination.

 

“Sure Grant, if you like. You got a smile too. Must be your lucky day, huh?” She doesn’t turn around, but he knows that she’s grinning. He can hear it in her voice.

 

“Guess so.” He aims for nonchalant, but worries that he comes off sounding like an asshole. He really needs to work on this whole conversation thing. Or on having conversations with utterly unsettling and undeniably attractive women. For the first time in a long time he wonders what his life would be like with someone else sharing it.

 

“You got any liquor in that cabin of yours?” Skye stops abruptly, and Grant’s barrelling into her for the second time in as many hours. He’s not entirely sure that both arms need to go around her, but his body’s acting on instinct and, for once, Grant decides to just roll with it. She still smells like lavender fields in the middle of summer, the promise of summer warm in his bones. “We gotta stop meeting like this.” Skye’s voice is muffled, and he belatedly realises that she’d half turned to speak to him, and her face is now pushed up against his chest, her voice skating across his skin.

 

“No.” He takes a step backwards. Away from Skye and the sensation of falling. She raises her eyebrows at him and he tries to stammer out an explanation. “No, I mean yes. Sorry. Yes, we do need to stop, and no to liquor.” He sounds like a total idiot. He’s really glad that nobody’s keeping score of the number of times he’s looked like a fool in front of Skye today. He tries to ignore the unsettling feeling that maybe Skye is.

 

“Okay, thanks for the clarification.” Skye says it slowly, as though she’s trying to figure something out at the same time. She obviously decides that she’s got more important things to do though, as her expression changes to a self-satisfied smirk. “Take me to Thomas’ truck, and don’t tell him that I raided his bar before we left town, okay?”

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Grant’s half way into an exaggerated bow before he even realises what he’s doing. He has a flash of memory, the darkness of a club, surrounded by the raucous laughter of his squad as he flirts outrageously with a group of girls. He snaps back to the present, the burn of scotch in the back of his throat nothing more than a memory, to find Skye staring at him. It’s getting dark here, under the trees and he can’t quite make out the expression on her face.

 

“You okay?” There’s a genuine note of concern in her voice, and Grant tries not to think about how long it’s been since he heard that.

 

“Yeah. Just ghosts.” He doesn’t expand on the thought. He honestly isn’t sure that he could.

 

“We’ve all got some of those.” Her hand drifts towards him, but stops short of his arm. He’s not sure if he’s disappointed or relived. Probably a little of both. “Let’s go soldier, time to get drinking.” This time she manoeuvres herself behind him, poking him in the back as she speaks. Grant considers asking her if it’s chance that has her using those words, but realizes that it’s more than just the failing light causing the shadows on her face. He finally just surrenders to the inevitable, grabbing Skye’s hand and pulling her towards the clearing where Thomas’ truck is parked. He tells himself it’s so that he can guide her around the tree roots littering the path. Deep down, he knows it’s so much more complicated than that.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [the truth can’t hurt us now](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5672827) by [Overdressedtokill (SkyeStan)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyeStan/pseuds/Overdressedtokill)




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